The Princess and the Quidditch Player
by Snitchy McSnitchsnitch
Summary: A Danish Princess and a Scottish Quidditch player fall in love with each other, and have to deal with the complications that come alone with loving a princess and a quidditch player.
1. Chapter 1

Isabella Henrietta Ingrid Margrethe was a princess of Denmark, and the third in line for the throne, only behind her father and brother. She was the first girl to be born to the Denmark royalty since 1946.

She was also a witch. No one in the Danish royal family had ever been a witch, so when she received her letter on the day of her 11th birthday it had been a shock to everybody. Her parents, Fredrik and Mary, were sensible people, and realized that, if their daughter was indeed a witch, then they were going to send her somewhere where she could have the best magical education possible. The letter she had received had instructed her to attend a local Danish school, but her parents had done some research and pulled some strings, and had decided upon Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even in the wizarding community, being royal had it's benefits.

This was how Isabella found herself standing on a platform, looking at enormous train as children yelled around her. Isabella had been brought up to be well mannered and proper, and suddenly she found herself to be very nervous. She looked at her mother and father and older brother, Christian.

"Do I have to go?" she whispered quietly in Danish, her blond hair shielding her face. Her father knelt down and cupped her face.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to my lillepigen, but to be a great leader you have to embrace who you were born to be." Her mother kissed the top of her head and her brother ruffled up her hair after her mother pulled away.

"Make some friends!" he said loudly in Danish, causing several people to look over in their direction. "Just don't tell anyone your royal, people always get overly excited about that!" She turned her wide green eyes on him looking defiant. "People will always like me better, royal or not!"

"Okay now.." her mother laughed a little, but gave them both stern looks. "Write to us when you've arrived, I'll miss you lillepigen."

"Miss you too mama," she replied, instantly sober again.

"Remember your English," her father instructed. "And stay out of trouble!"

True to her word, Isabella remembered her English and stayed out of trouble. She took her brothers advice and made some friends, although it took a while as she was a little shy, and the British children found her to be a little strange, though they chalked it up to her being Danish. She never told anyone she was a member of the Danish royalty, and now in her seventh year things were finally shaping up for the princess. She had top grades, as was expected from a child in her standing, and while she didn't think she would ever be able to have a career in the wizarding world like she wished she could, life was a happy place for Isabella, who had become a Gryffindor.

The one thing she relished more than anything was her ability to date anyone she chose, so long as it wasn't serious. When she turned fifteen, her father sat her down and explained to her that she had a duty to the Danish people that put them above herself, and that when she married, while she could do it for love (it was the twentieth century after all), she needed to pick someone suitable, and her father made it clear that a wizard was probably not a very suitable candidate. They argued, and left it as a case by case basis. So Isabella, who inherited her mother and grandmothers good looks, dated very avidly through Hogwarts. She hadn't met anyone she found suitable to run a country with her, but she was young and assumed that her brother would be the King, and she could remain a Princess forever.

Isabella started her seventh year of Hogwarts the way she had started her first year, and that was sitting alone in a compartment on the train. Her legs were encased in dark blue jeans, and she had on a simple green shirts and her hair in a ponytail, and she was reading a book, curled up comfortably in the seat, not minding her aloneness. In fact, Hogwarts seemed like the only time Isabella ever had any time alone, back home everything was busy busy, and moved non stop.

She smiled when she heard the door slide open and saw her best friend walk in, Oliver Wood. Oliver and Isabella had met on the train seven years ago, both alone and friendless. They bonded over the fact that they were both foreign, her Danish and him Scottish. They had stayed best friends over the years despite his obsession with quidditch and the fact that she never invited him over during the summer.

"Hey Bella. Good summer?" he asked, sitting across from her. She no longer winced from the nick name, used to the fact that people, Oliver especially, felt the need to abbreviate her name.

"Yeah, I'd say so. Especially enjoyable when I spent a week with some bloke named Oliver Wood. Do you know him? He's a Gryffindor too," she was teasing him.

"Oliver Wood...isn't he obsessed with Quidditch?" he teased back, playing along.

"Yeah, he's barking mad about it. Not sure if he has a personality underneath it."

"Ouch, Bells, that hurts," he said, abandoning their game.

"I'm only teasing," she smiled, flashing perfectly straight teeth at him and putting away her book.

"How was your brothers wedding?" Oliver asked her. Her older brother, Christian, had gotten married over the summer, which was huge news in Denmark. She wondered how much she should tell Oliver, or if it had even made news over in England.

"Oh...it was this big drawn out affair, totally boring." She brushed it off, like she did with all family things, too afraid to give anything away that might reveal who she was. At this point, Isabella was certain that Oliver wouldn't have cared one way or the other what family she was born into, now it was about keeping up the lie. She was more afraid that, if he realized she had been lying to him for the past seven years, he would instantly hate her, and a life without Oliver was one she did not want to imagine. So, even though lying was the most un-princessly things she could do, she kept it up, hoping he would never find out.

"Well, it's awesome he found someone he can love more than himself," Oliver joked.

"It's all anyone can ask for in this life," she responded, the biggest smile on her face.

What Isabella didn't know was that Oliver was soul-crushingly, head over heels, blind man seeing the sun for the first time, in love with her. He had suspected he might be the first time he heard her voice all those years ago, with her funny Danish accent, but he wasn't positive until the summer before their second year, when he had to spend three agonizing months away from her. He had watched her date countless boys in Hogwarts, taught her to play Quidditch, wiped away tears, and spent hours laughing and talking with her. He often wondered if she found it weird that he never dated anyone, and he wondered even more if he told her how he felt, what she would say. He hadn't been able to work up the nerve to tell her, as Isabella was beautiful (and he was sure his opinion wasn't biased), but since this was their seventh year he knew it was do or die, and Oliver Wood never said die. He wanted this whole year to be his year with her, so he had practiced what he would say to her all summer, along with devising new Quidditch tactics that were guaranteed to give them the house cup.

And so, it was with a deep breath that he began. It was dark now, and she was reading her book again, although she had changed seats and was sitting next to him, her elbow resting against his head, and some of her hair was on his shoulder. They had been sitting in silence for the last two hours, a comfortable one for her and a nervous one for him.

"Isabella?" he began, thinking now it was too late to go back, and if he didn't tell her now he never would and would regret for his whole life.

She looked up, placing a finger in her book and closing it as to not lose her spot. Oliver hadn't called her Isabella in years and the look on his face was a mixture somewhere between terrified and very serious. "Oliver."

"I need to tell you something."

She blinked, wishing he would smile or something, she was suddenly very afraid that he was going to say something terrible, like he knew what a terrible liar she was, or that he hated her. Oliver was taken aback by how scared she suddenly looked, and wondered what was going through her mind. He grabbed her hand, causing her to lose her spot in her book.

"I want to tell you something I've been trying to say to you for seven years. It's hard...you're my best friend, you know?"

"You're mine too!" she reassured him, squeezing his hand.

"I think that's why it's been so hard to tell you. I didn't want to ruin anything, but I have to say it now or I'll regret it forever. Isabella...Bella...Bells...I am...and have been, since I met you...in love with you."

The silence was so thick in the compartment you could have cut it with a butter knife. "What?" she whispered in Danish, not even realizing she wasn't speaking English anymore. Oliver did not take this as a good sign.

"I love you. Yep. That's all I've got," he said again, figuring if he was going to let her crush him, he was really going to let her crush him. She continued to stare at him like she had never seen him before, and he just sat there feeling stupid.

"Jeg elsker dig," she murmured, looking into his eyes.

"Bells...you know I don't speak Danish," he said sadly. Her face broke out into a radiant smile. "Well you need to learn that phrase."

"Why?" his eyes were locked on the floor. "What does it mean?"

"I love you," she said, smiling when his brown eyes met hers, and without thinking or planning it, she brought her face over to his and kissed him in what was the best moment of seventeen years of her life. She forgot about being royalty or doing what was right for her people, about Olivers ignorance at who she was, she forgot anything except the boy sitting next to her and they way he smelled and tasted, and how perfect this moment felt. It was like they were made for each other, specifically designed for this exact moment, sitting in this exact train compartment kissing each other. Like their whole lives had been leading up to this moment, and nothing else mattered.


	2. October

The point of this story isn't about them falling in love, it's about what happens after all that.

* * *

Isabella interlaced her fingers with Olivers as they walked to their classes, their first day back. No one seemed shocked by the revelation that Oliver and Isabella were together (though there had been several comments of "finally!" and "about time!" from many seventh and sixth year Gryffindors). It was something that was just inevitable.

"I guess I'll have to enjoy this moments with you," she said, sighing wistfully.

"Why's that?" he asked seemingly perplexed, looking down at her. Oliver was a good four inches taller than her.

"Quidditch starts soon, doesn't it?" she asked, looking down. Quidditch was Oliver's great love. She had grown used to spending much of her time alone during the Quidditch season while he trained and practiced, and now that he was Captain she was guaranteed to spend even less time with him than usual.

"It'll be fine," he assured her. Oliver felt like a man in a daze, he couldn't believe his good luck that he finally had Isabella, the girl he had been pining over for seven years. When the had stopped kissing, and were able to talk again, she told him she had realized she liked him their third year, but always assumed he was just friends, so she never persued it. He couldn't believe he had wasted so much time, time that he could have spent being with her, and now that he had her he wanted her to be sure that she was number one in his life without coming off as clingy or needy.

She just smiled and took her seat in Herbology, and he sat next to her. Their seating arrangement hadn't changed since first year, they were partners in everything unless a teacher split them up. She wondered if dating your best friend, and in her case one of her only friends, would be a mistake, but the idea was quickly banished from her mind. Being with Oliver felt right. She even felt, if her dad were to meet him, he would approve.

Which brought about another worrisome point. Her family. Her actual life. Hogwarts felt like summer camp most of the time, a fun distraction for the life that waited ahead, a life that didn't involve magic. She didn't know how she could hide something like working at Gringotts, or whatever the Danish equivalent was to that, the Danish royal family was always in the public eye. When she graduated she would have to go off to college, probably Oxford, which meant she could spend more time with Oliver, were they still together, and get a degree in Philosophy, and then dedicate her life to helping others who were less fortunate. That's what being a princess in the modern age was really about, being a woman other girls could look up to. Could Oliver respect that? He came from pure bred witches and wizards and wanted to play Quidditch professionally. Could she even ask him to take a royal title? She pushed the idea from her mind, after all, she was still only seventeen, she had time to figure all this out.

Their first day passed in a blur, and before she knew it she was sitting alone in the Gryffindor Common Room, composing a letter to her parents. Oliver was out on the pitch "testing the conditions" as he put it, and she left him to it. She looked over her letter, written in Danish, checking to make sure it was grammatically correct, and also didn't leave anything important out. She debated on telling them about Oliver, but chose to leave it out, for now. It would only make them worry.

The month of September flew by before Isabella knew what hit her, and there were brief moments in between the bliss she felt of being with Oliver where she began to feel panicked. How was she going to keep up this charade when she left the safety of Hogwarts? Sooner or later her lies would catch up with her and Oliver, and there were many times when she was tempted to just tell him everything and let the chips fall where they may. However, despite her being a Gryffindor, she took the cowardly approach and kept it to herself, deciding she would worry about it when the time came, and pushed all such thoughts from her brain.

Indeed, telling Oliver at this point would have been nearly impossible as he began training the team at the very beginning of October, and when he wasn't training them or himself tirelessly, he was putting together strategies, sometimes into the early morning, so her time with him was becoming very limited. A Hogsmeade visit had been posted on the board, and she was determined he was going to take a break and go with her and spend several hours of uninterrupted time with her. When she was saw him come in through the portrait, trailing a tired and muddy looking team, she walked up to him.

"How was practice?" she asked bravely, knowing that once he got started he might never stop.

"It's going better, this is our year Bells, I just know it, as long as Potter keeps himself alive and out of trouble we're going to have it!" he had a maniacal look in his eyes, but she knew better than to be concerned.

"Yes, I'm sure it is. Oliver, there is a Hogsmeade visit on the board..." she followed him up to his dormitory.

He frowned as he peeled off his dirty, muddy shirt before replying, "Yeah, I saw that, but I don't think I'm going. I think I'm going to stay and work on Quidditch tactics."

She sighed, looking at the wall so she wouldn't be distracted by him shirtless, which was an impressive sight. She knew it was not for nothing that he woke up every morning at six to go running on the grounds, Oliver was in great shape. "Oh. Well...I was kind of hoping you would go with me."

His head snapped up when her heard the tone of voice in which she said her last sentence. She sounded disappointed, which was the last thing he wanted. "Well...we can go. I can work on that some other time."

She smiled and sat down on his bed watching as he continued to change. "It has been a while since we spent any time alone together."

Oliver almost tripped and feel over at her words, hurriedly putting his other leg into his shorts and then joined her on his bed. She looked amazing, he reflected, almost regal, although she protested when he called her his little princess, but that's exactly what she looked like to him. Even the way she lounged was elegant, every movement she made incredibly graceful. He knew he was just biased, blinded by the way he felt for her so he put her onto a pedestal, and he didn't think too much more into it.

"Yes it has," he agreed, putting his hand on the back of her head and kissing her, but they were immediately interrupted by his dorm mates walking in. There was a chorus of "Awwws!" and "Yeah go Olivers!" causing Isabella so much embarrassment that she ducked out before they could say any more to her.

"Nice job," Oliver commented, throwing a pillow at Neil, a fellow dorm mate. "Way to scare her off."

"Awww, c'mon, you know it was intentional, just some good natured ribbing," Neil grinned back, tossing Oliver back his pillow.

That Saturday Isabella was waiting on Oliver, who was late. She was sitting on the edge of a chair, jacket draped over her arm and tapping her foot impatiently for a good fifteen minutes until he practically flew down the stairs looking harassed. "I'm so sorry I'm running late Bells!"

"It's alright," she said graciously, standing up. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," he replied. The two walked downstairs, passed by Filch, and entered the village in complete silence. Isabella kept trying to think of things to say, but everything sounded stupid in her head. She wished he would say something to break the icy silence, but Oliver seemed distracted at best and bored out of his mind at worst. Finally, when they were standing in the actual village, she had to say something since it was obvious he wasn't going to say a word. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't care," he replied, obviously in his own world. Awesome. Isabella sighed, hating herself for what she was about to say.

"Oliver...do you want to go back to the castle and work on your Quidditch tactics?" Finally, she thought as his whole face lit up.

"Would you mind?" She wanted to slap him, hard, because she obviously minded or she wouldn't have asked him to come out with her in the first place, but she didn't want to sound like a needy girlfriend, so with a cheerfulness she did not actually feel, she responded, "No, not at all."

"Excellent, you're the best Bells," and he turned on his heel to head back towards this castle. Isabella just stood there, watching, and was mildly surprised when he stopped and came back over to her. "You're not coming?" he asked, looking torn.

"No," she forced out a small smile. "I'm going to stay...I haven't been here in a while, and I'm tired of the castle."

"Want me to stay...?"he trailed off, looking disappointed at the prospect of having to walk around the village when he didn't want to. Isabella felt tears starting to prick her eyes, because she desperately wanted him to stay with her, but she wasn't going to force them, so she told him, "No, you go. Honestly, I'll be fine. Really,"before he could notice how sad she really was.

Watching him retreat towards the castle compounded the miserable feeling, and several tears slipped down her face before she could stop them. She felt foolish and unprincessly, but she was still a teenage girl, and with that somewhat comforting feeling in mind she walked off, her steps slow, trying to make the tears, which weren't falling hard, but were still slipping out, stop before someone noticed and commented on it later. The last thing she needed was for Oliver to feel like he let her sit in Hogsmeade and cry for several hours. 'Well you did..' a voice in her head said viciously, but she pushed it to the side and walked into Honeydukes thinking that something sweet might cheer her up.

Isabella walked through the shop despondently, occasionally fingering things, but nothing looked good so she ended up walking out. A cursory glance at the clock showed she had wasted twenty minutes, and the tears still felt close to the surface. She saw the girls from her dormitory, who were in her grade, and wished suddenly she had worked harder to make friends with them. She had been good at starting relationships with boys, those just required her looks, and the way they looked, but outside of Oliver she didn't really have any other close friends. Until now, that had never bothered her, but she should have known when he owled her over the summer telling her he had been made the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain that things were not going to be the same as they had always been. Of course he would become even more absorbed into Quidditch than before, since it was now his sole responsibility for a win. 'And what happens when you guys graduate and he joins a professional league?' that same nasty voice asked her in her head. 'Maybe it's best to stop wasting your time and go for that British Duke your family is so fond of.'

"SHUT UP!" she shouted loudly to no one in particular, startling several second year Slytherins. They gave her odd looks, like she was crazy, which was about how she felt in that moment. Giving them a small smile she hurried off back to the castle. She gave up trying to have fun here on her own, she would rather be alone in Hogwarts than in the village. Thinking that maybe she'd find something interesting to read in the library and waste her time that way.

Isabella didn't fight for any more of Oliver's time for the rest of the month, and the first time she actually spent longer than twenty minutes with him was on Halloween. Everyone was relaxed, and for once he wasn't talking to her about Quidditch, instead asking her questions about what she had been doing to occupy her time recently. He even apologized, meeting her outside her last class with Orchids before walking to the Halloween feast with her.

"Remember the year a troll broke in?" he asked her as they sat down at the table. She threw her head back and laughed, genuinely happy for the first time all month. "Yes, that was like, three years ago?"

"Nothing exciting like that ever happens anymore," he commented as he began to eat.

"What about the Chamber of Secrets opening?" she demanded, her fork paused halfway to her mouth. That had been a particularly scary year for Isabella, as she was muggle born.

"Eh," he responded before catching sight of the look on her face. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to you anyway, I don't know why you were so worried." This was true, the second everyone realized only muggle borns were being attacked, Oliver followed her everywhere, theorizing that since he was a pure blood, and she was a muggle born, together they were a half and half, and she was safe. Isabella never quite followed his logic, but she allowed him to accompany her everywhere, and indeed she never was attacked, and her parents never caught wind of what was going on. She knew if they had known there was even a remote possibility of her being attacked they would have yanked her out so fast she wouldn't even be able to say stop. So far this year had been undramatic, minus the dementors posted everywhere, but her parents were privy to this information either.

The two enjoyed each other all the way up to the common room until they met with a jam. People were screaming and yelling, and Peeves was floating above them gloating. "Wonder what he did now," Isabella commented as Harry Potter shoved past her, his two friends trailing behind him.

"Something stupid I'm-"

"It was Sirius Black!" Peves cackled, causing Oliver to stop what he was saying and grab Isabella's arm and pulled her against him tightly. "Oliver, he didn't attack me!" she said, but he couldn't hear her over the screaming of everybody else. Professor McGonagal hearded them into the Great Hall, and soon all the houses were down there. Isabella and Oliver grabbed squishy sleeping bags and found a quiet corner.

"I can't believe he got into the castle," Isabella whispered as she grabbed Olivers sleeping bag out of his hand. "I wonder how he got in."

"Why did you take my sleeping bag?" he asked, ignoring the speculation.

"I'm zipping them up together," she responded as she zipped and then setting it down on the floor.

"Clever, where did you learn that?" he asked and he cuddled in with her.

"I grew up as a muggle, this is a necessary skill, all kids learn it," she replied, pushing out the fact that she did not grow up like normal muggle children.

"What is Denmark like?" he asked breathing in the way her hair smelled since she had her head on his chest.

"Safe. Really safe, Denmark is the second safest place to live in the world. The people are the happiest in the world. No, really, they did a survey. We might be behind New Zealand, but still. It's beautiful. I can't describe it, you'll just have to visit someday." Isabella didn't realize what she just said, as she was already asleep. Oliver closed his eyes too and held her tightly for a second.

"I can't wait," he said, drifting off as well.


	3. Christmas

Hey. So there is a part in here that gets a little graphic...and if you're not into that, that's cool, just don't flame me, I rated it M to cover my bases.

* * *

Christmas season was trickier this year for Isabella than the previous years for a simple reason: Oliver wanted to visit Denmark. He wanted to meet her family, to see the home she grew up in. Isabella knew that if he got there and realized she lived in the palace, he might put two and two together and realize she had lied to him.

Fortunately there was a solution, one that fell into her lap on accident, when her mother informed her that they were spending Christmas in France this year, and Isabella was welcome to join. She politely declined, and informed Oliver immediately.

"Bad luck," he said frowning.

"Yeah, well maybe another time. I'm just going to hang around Hogwarts instead," she said, smiling softly. She wasn't looking forward to spending her first Christmas alone together, but Isabella was over Paris, they had been there a lot when she had been a child, and she just was not as fond of it as she was of other places they could have visited.

"Can you speak french?" he asked her, smiling. Third year she had shocked Oliver by speaking perfect Italian. He swallowed her story about Italian relatives, which wasn't a total lie, at this point Isabella was related to all the major European royals in the world, including several Italians, but that wasn't how she learned it. Her parents had made sure she was fluent in all the major European languages by the age of eleven, and over the summer her lessons continued. She had always been surprised that Oliver never found it strange that an eleven year old spoke perfect English even though she was Danish, but he never asked and she was not going to be the one to point that fact out to him.

"I speak a little," she smiled, trying to be honest. French was not her best language, but she could navigate through France just fine. Oliver didn't need to know that.

"Of course you can. Well, you're welcome to Scotland to spend time with my family, if you want," he told her.

"Your family won't mind?"

"Of course not, you know they love you. My mom can't get over how nice you are all the time. Perfectly made beds," he threw an arm around her. "Come home with me, I don't want you to spend Christmas alone."

Which is how Isabella found herself sitting in Oliver's living room while his mother fussed over her. Olivers home was what Isabella imagined normal homes looked like, it was two stories, and filled with knickknacks. His mother had an obsession with roosters, little ceramic roosters, or wood cut outs of them, they were everywhere. Isabella had found this strange when she first came over, but was used to it now.

"You look so skinny Izzy, are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" she asked, buzzing around her like a bumblebee.

"No, really, I'm fine. I promise, we ate a ton on the train over, if I eat anymore I'll be sick," she said sweetly.

"I'm just so thrilled you're spending Christmas with us. When Oliver wrote home and told us you two had started a romance I about died of happiness, you two are just so perfect together," she gushed, causing Isabella to squirm nervously. She personally agreed that they were perfect together, but she also didn't like to think about it too much, for the obvious reasons.

"Mom, you're hovering, you promised you wouldn't do this," Oliver complained. When his mother left the room, the pair made there way up to Olivers room, which had blue walls you could barely see because they were covered in Quidditch posters, Gryffindor paraphernalia, and pictures of friends and family. There was several of her and him, though none since they had started dating. Her favorite was one from when they were twelve, just laughing exuberantly in the picture. She picked it up and smiled fondly. "Look how little we were back then."

"Yeah, thank God I grew out of that," he replied, glancing at the picture before flopping onto the bed.

"Have you gotten any responses?" she asked him, noticing his hopeful glance at the sky. In the middle of November Oliver had been allowed to miss a week of classes to try out for several Quidditch teams as he hoped to play professionally once he graduated.

"Not yet, but it's still early," he told her as she put the picture back on the stand and joined him on the bed. With a flick of his wand he shut the door and then pulled her on top of him. They began kissing enthusiastically, stopping to breathe, and then start again.

Wasting a half hour was Isabella's new favorite thing. If she could have spent all her time doing that with him she was pretty sure she could die happy, and she was pretty sure he felt the same way. This had, however, awoken a desire in the both of them to explore the other one, and she wasn't always sure how comfortable she was with this. She had to admit, she wondered what Oliver looked like naked, and every so often, late at night, she tried to picture what it would be like when he actually did get naked in front of her. The idea was exciting and terrifying all at once. She knew he had to feel a similar way, maybe less scared and more excited because he definitely had blind man hands, once they started kissing his hands started roaming all over the place. She was okay with under the shirt, and even under the bra after a while, but below the belt was still off limits. She wanted to at least discuss all that with him before they started trying it so she knew they were on the same page, but she didn't want to be the one who brought it up, which left them at a kind of crossroads, two seventeen year old kids caught somewhere between just kissing and sex.

The holidays with Olivers family was, at best, always an adventure. Nothing ever went according to plan, which would never have happened in Isabella's family, but she loved it all the same. It was just the four of them, enjoying a nice home cooked turkey dinner, and after several rounds of Christmas carols, everyone went to sleep full and happy. Isabella snuck out of her guest room, something she had never done before, and climbed gracefully into Olivers bed.

"Sneaky," he commented sleepily as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I wanted to wake up on Christmas next to you. Will your parents be upset?"

"Nah, they'll probably be thrilled at the prospect of future grandchildren. I'm pretty sure if they could switch they would trade me in for you."

"Oh Oliver," she chided. There was silence for a while in the room, and Isabella was almost completely asleep when Oliver asked, "Bella?"

"Yeah?" she said sleepily, attempting to turn her face towards his but keeping her eyes shut.

"Do you want...you know...want to do that?"

"Have grandchildren?"

"No...I meant...y'know...sex."

Her eyes flew open at the word sex. "What?"

"I just thought that we might...try it...at some point. If you wanted." He sounded really nervous, so Isabella twisted until they were facing each other and kissed him, which turned into several kisses, and then they were making out and he was on top of her tugging at her shirt, and suddenly she didn't want him to stop, she wanted things to keep going. Her skin felt like it was burning even though he had removed her shirt, and his shirt had been taken off too, and Isabella was aware that it was nothing like the movies. Even though they were still kissing fervently, she was hyper aware of everything going on around her, although the way his bare skin felt on hers was amazing, and then her pajama pants were off, and she was pulling his off, and they were naked, pressed up against each other, kissing, and she wondered suddenly if this was actually going to happen. She didn't want to tell him to stop, but she wasn't exactly sure how this worked, so she hoped to Merlin he had an idea as to what he was doing, and also hoped it didn't hurt. She stopped kissing for a second and looked down, just to see even though part of her was pretty sure she didn't want to see anything going on, to just be ignorant of everything until he was actually inside and she had to deal.

She was kind of blown away, he looked ten times better naked than she had imagined, all muscular and lean the way Quidditch players should be. He was looking down at her with that question in his eyes, the "are you or aren't you" question, so she leaned up on her elbows and kissed him, and he responded enthusiastically, pushing himself inside. It wasn't painful at all, just a strange feeling, like being kind of full. She focused on how it felt, and when it was over she felt totally exhilarated, and judging by the quiet noises he had been making and the mess on her abdomen, she guessed he had enjoyed it just as much.

Oliver jumped up and grabbed a towel to clean her off, and then climbed back in bed and squeezed her tightly to him.

"That was...amazing," he breathed into her hair, causing her to smile.

"It wasn't what I expected at all," she confessed, kissing him lightly on the lips.

"Me either, but it felt...oh Merlin. And you...you were...are so totally gorgeous naked. I can't believe it took me seven years of knowing you to find that out."

She just laughed. She had been so worried just earlier that week about sleeping with him, and her whole life had thought she would feel some kind of loss or regret once it happened, but she didn't feel anything except happy and kind of tired. Doing it with the right person must have made all the difference.

"I love you," she yawned sleepily, rolling over on her side to catch some sleep.

"I love you too," he murmured into her hair, and the pair fell into a dead sleep almost immediately.

The next morning was a little more complicated, as Isabella woke up to Olivers door being opened very slowly. She kept her eyes shut tight, knowing it had to be his mom or dad putting gifts onto the bed, and she also knew the two were totally naked. She could feel their clothes underneath the covers next to her feet, so she breathed easier knowing his mother wasn't walking in to see clothes flung about the room, but if she moved the blankets at all it wouldn't take a genius to figure out what they had been up to last night.

"Must have heard the storm and come in here, poor thing," she heard his mother whisper.

"They're good kids," his father whispered back, and then the door shut closed and Isabella exhaled. She closed her eyes and must have drifted off again, because when she woke up Oliver was out of the bed and in clothes.

"I was just about to wake you up, your parents just sent an owl," he told her, indicating an envelope on top of her gifts. She climbed out of bed after fishing her clothes out from under the blankets, and read it as she got dressed.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he unwrapped presents.

"Yeah, it's just wishing me a Merry Christmas and letting me know how everyone is doing," she said vaguely as she began opening her own.

Her parents sent her more things than she could ever need, clothes and shoes and money and books. Oliver gave her a silver necklace with a heart on it -"because you have mine"-. It was a good way to begin the new term, especially after the night before, and on their way back the two lounged together in their compartment, both worry free for once and just glad they had each other.


	4. The Future

Sex changed an element in Isabella and Olivers relationship. Before they were doing it, not seeing each other longer than ten minutes outside of class was acceptable. Now it was not. Isabella was still fine with the old dynamic, but suddenly Oliver was wanting more time with her. They didn't always do that, but sometimes they did, which presented another problem. Finding a place to do it where people wouldn't walk in was hard to come by. Most of the time they snuck into their dorms when they were vacant or they stayed up late and did it when the common room was vacant. The more often they did it, the better they got at it, and the better it felt, so it was hard for Isabella to complain about it. Oliver was seventeen, she had just given him a gift all seventeen year old boys would trade their souls for. She liked the fact he wanted to spend more time with her, though she knew he was splitting his time between Quidditch, NEWTs and her, and was often exhausted. Twice he had fallen asleep in DADA and she had had to elbow him awake before Lupin noticed.

Isabella found herself sitting in potions class, working over a cauldron when a small third year boy walked in.

"Can I help you?" Snape asked him, causing everyone else's heads to snap up.

"Uhh.." he stammered, looking at Snape. "Dumbledore...he uh...wants to see Isabella." The little boy turned on his heel and retreated. Isabella fought the urge to roll her eyes, yes Snape could be intimidating, but she had met worse and personally felt Snape was one of the better teacher she had. She was aware she was one of the few people in the school felt that way, possibly no Gryffindors, but Isabella was not like other people, and Snape reminded her of many diplomats who had been in and out of the palace since she was a child.

"Go on, you can bottle up what you have now and I will mark you based on that," Snape informed her which seemed very fair to her. Bottling up a sample of her potion and putting it on Snapes desk, she cleaned up and then headed out to Dumbledore's office, pausing only to shoot Oliver a glance that clearly said, "I don't know what this is about either."

Dumbledore was waiting for her outside the stone gargoyle, which was good because halfway there she realized she didn't know what his password was.

"Ah," he smiled, "Miss Schle-"

Isabella cut him off as they began walking up to his office. "Just Isabella is fine, sir. My last name is too long." She tried to laugh about it, but in fact she was a little annoyed. Surely Dumbledore must know how she felt about her name at this point, and when they reached his office he indeed, acknowledged this.

"Of course, Isabella, of course. I did think that perhaps you were keeping all of that to yourself, but humor me, what is your full title?" His eyes were twinkling as he sat at his desk. She was sitting across from him, and when he asked she involuntarily straightened herself in her seat and said, " Her Royal Highness Princess Isabella Henrietta Ingrid Margarethe of Denmark, Countess of Monpezat."

Dumbledore smiled. "And your family name...?"

She sighed quietly, but continued on, her Danish accent heavy. "Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glucksburg."

"Aren't you proud to belong to a family like that? Your family is the oldest in the world."

"Second," she corrected him quietly, wondering where he was going with this. "Japan's is older."

Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment, and then laughed. "Right you are, Isabella." She offered him a small smile, but continued to sit in silence, waiting for him to get the point.

"I can't help but notice that you have kept your remarkable family to yourself." She didn't answer this, so Dumbledore continued on. "I also noticed that you are the only seventh year student who didn't chose a career for their NEWTs.

"Oh. Well I already have a career picked out," she told him softly.

"Of course, you have a responsibility to your country, but what about yourself?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, unsure what he was driving at.

"What about the responsibility to yourself, and to do what makes you happy."

"It will make me happy," she told him in a small voice, but in truth she could feel the tears close to the surface again.

"Well, I hope so, after all your family and your history is remarkable. I merely want to be certain that you are aware of the choices you are making, and to offer you some guidance should you ask for it." It might have been the way he was smiling at her, or the fact that all her fears were suddenly at the surface, but Isabella finally broke down and started crying. Actually crying, not just quiet tears, but the sobbing that goes with keeping a secret that is painful to yourself. Dumbledore did not seem surprised at her reaction.

"How do I tell him?" she asked through her sobs, her accent heavy. She didn't think anyone other than Dumbledore could have understood her, and wasn't surprised at all when he spoke back to her in Danish.

"You tell him the truth, and hope he understands," he said in simple Danish. She looked at him with wide, watery green eyes.

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will. Maybe not in the beginning, but he will."

Isabella got up, wiped her eyes, and turned to leave. She couldn't have this conversation anymore.

"Thank you," she said through her tears, and then fled from his office, running out the castle and collapsing onto the grounds where she finally just let it all out and began crying and crying and crying. It was like a drug, she couldn't stop once she started, and truth be told, she didn't want to stop. It felt good, it was like all the fear she kept inside was being let out. She wasn't sure if she would tell him now, but she was sure she would tell him soon.

Isabella made her way back up to the castle well after nightfall, missing dinner. Oliver was waiting for her in the common room, along with a handful of other people who were still up. He had his knees brought up his chest, a piece of parchment balancing on his knees. He looked up when the portrait opened, and when he saw her the relief flooding over his face was obvious.

"Bells," he breathed getting up and hugging her. His piece of parchment fluttered to the floor, but he didn't seem to notice. She let him hug her, putting her arms around him too, but she was exhausted and wasn't ready to open up just yet. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah...Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about my future," he said dully.

"You look like you've been crying."

"I'm just stressed," she lied, stepping back. "And really tired, I just want to go to sleep."

"Okay babe..." he kissed her forehead. "I'm here though, and you can tell me anything."

She pressed her forehead against his. "I know. I know."


	5. Revelations

It was the Quidditch House Cup Final. Isabella woke up nervous, this was Olivers last year to win it. She went down to breakfast and ate, looking at young Harry Potter, who looked terrified. Oliver was nowhere near her, so she made her way down to the pitch to watch alone. She hoped Dumbledore kept the dementors away this time, last time had been terrible with them swirling around, causing them to loose the game. Before the game could start though, McGonagal pulled her out of the stands.

"Your parents are here...your grandmother..." Isabella didn't let her finish, instead walking quickly to the castle, McGonagal led her into her office where her parents were standing. Her mother's eyes were red and her fathers face was unreadable.

"What's wrong?" she demanded in Danish, her voice loud and shrill. "What happened?" Her parents had never been to Hogwarts before, she knew something bad had happened.

"Your grandmother..." her mother started, and then started to cry again. Her father put his arm around her and finished her mothers sentence.

"Your grandmother passed today."

Isabella sank down into a chair. "How?" she whispered.

"Heart attack, in her sleep. She didn't even feel a thing," her father told her. Isabella hung her head for a minute, but she was unable to cry for the moment.

"When is the..." she couldn't make herself say funeral.

"Your teacher has allowed you to return home to attend," her mother said quietly. "We just wanted to be sure you heard from us and not from the press. You two were so close.."

Isabella nodded. "I'm going to go back to the game..." she said in English. Her parents both nodded. "Can I go home tomorrow?" McGonagal nodded, and Isabella made it back in time to see Harry get the snitch, and Gryffindor win. The team collided in a mid-air hug, and then came to the ground, and she could see his face searching for hers, but she couldn't move. It was all too much, too overwhelming. He made his way through the crowd and grabbed her, swinging her around while shouting, but everything was on mute for Isabella, everything was moving in slow motion. He placed his lips against hers, and she saw him mouthing something, and then everything went black.

Oliver watched Isabella, who was already sheet white, as she went limp in his arms. He scooped her up before she could fall to the ground and began carrying her to the castle. He ran into Dumbledore walking two dark haired people out. "Professor, she just passed out!" he said. The man made a strangled noise when he saw the limp blond in Olivers arms, and the woman burst into tears.

"Mr. Wood, these are Isabella's parents," he murmured softly. The woman became hysterical, crying as the man took Isabella gently out of Oliver's arms. "First my mother, now my daughter!" Mary, the Crown Princess of Denmark was crying.

"Let's take her to the hospital wing," Dumbledore led the way to the infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey assured everyone there that she had merely passed from exhaustion and would be fine once she awoke.

"It's best to let her sleep for now," she concluded, leaving them to it. Dumbledore excused himself, but Oliver stayed, despite how uncomfortable he felt sitting her with her parents, who were obviously very distressed.

"You...you are her best friend...Oliver?" her father finally broke the silence.

"Yes sir. Her boyfriend," Oliver responded, looking him in the eye.

"Boyfriend?" her mother asked, and he noticed she had an Australian accent. So Isabella wasn't totally Danish, she had never mentioned that.

"Yeah, we started dating in September...didn't she tell you?" he asked, kind of upset she had kept that from him. "She spent Christmas with my family, I just assumed she had told you."

His father's eyebrows shot up in to his hair. "She told us she was staying in the castle for Christmas...I hope you gave her a separate bed room."

"Of course," he assured them, wondering why Isabella had lied.

"Well, this is very sweet. You'll have to visit us this summer, the palace is simply beautiful that time of year, and you'll love Denmark," Mary told Oliver, who was fixated on one word out of her whole sentence.

"Palace?" he asked, confused. Something was starting to click for him in his brain, but he needed to hear it for himself.

"Yes, palace. Where else would a princess of Denmark live? Didn't she ever tell you..."

"No. No, she didn't...if you could excuse me..." Oliver got up and walked out. He heard her father yell "SON!" after him, but he was already gone. Somehow, as bizarre as this seemed, it made sense. He had felt for years he was missing something essential about her, that he could never quite figure out what, and now he knew, it was like he could see her clearly for the first time in years. If he wasn't so sick at the thought that she had been lying to him throughout their whole friendship he would have been jubilant. This was the girl he had been picturing as his wife, maybe having children with some day, and it turns out she was actually a Danish Princess. He let out a maniacal laugh, thinking that for the last three months he had been sleeping with a Princess.

He wanted to get away from her for a while, so he went to the common room and joined the party, and just tried to forget. If she came in that night, he never saw her, and he didn't look for her. Obviously he didn't mean enough to her for the truth, so she didn't mean anything to him, either.

It was easy to lie to himself.

Isabella woke up the next morning, blissfully unaware of what was going on with Oliver. The memory of her grandmother dying flooded back in almost instantly, and she squeezed her eyes shut again, wanting to forget again.

"Mom? Dad?" she whispered. "Is everything going to be okay?" Her mother moved, sitting on the edge of her bed and smoothed back her hair.

"Everything will be. Things always are hard, but they get better after a while."

"How come you didn't tell us you had a boyfriend?" her father asked.

"Oliver was here?" she sat up and looked around.

"Yeah, for a little while. Honey, how come you never told him you lived in the palace. He seemed so shocked when we invited him over..."

Isabella felt sick, her head was spinning again. "What?" she was back to whispering. Her parents looked alarmed again.

"Honey, lay down, you're upsetting yourself again," her mother began, but Isabella was out of bed fast as lightning and ran into her common room, ignoring Madam Pomfrey and her parents' yells. She didn't seem him in in the common room, so she made her way up to his dormitory, where she found him, alone, a book propped up against his knees. He didn't seem surprised to see her.

"Your Highness," he said, not taking his eyes off his book. "What can I do for you."

"Oliver..." she said miserably, catching sight of the book he was reading, Royal Families of the Ages.

"You have the second oldest Royal Family in the world. Did you know you're related to almost all the royal families in Europe, and you're 267th in line for the British throne."

She was taken aback by this. "No, Oliver, I didn't know that. Listen...you have to let me explain."

He snapped his book shut and sat up, and she saw that he was really mad at her. "Explain what? That you lied to me for seven years? Were you ever going to tell me?"

She hung her head in shame, this was not how she had wanted him to find out. "I was, after we graduated." He laughed at this.

"Really? How can I believe you?"

She looked up at him, and for a minute he was struck by how beautiful she was, even when she was sad. "You can't. I didn't want anyone to know, when I first came here. It's cliche, but it seemed like the only way to make real friends. Before you, I had never had a real friend."

"Well that's not shocking," he said vindictively, and he watched a spasm of pain cross her face. It didn't feel good to hurt her back.

She took a deep breath and continued, determined not to let him hurt her while she let it all out. "I didn't want anyone to know, and then when I thought it would be okay to tell you, I was just too caught up in my lie, and it became harder and harder to do it, and I kept putting it off. I really was going to tell you. I thought you would be okay with it."

"I'm fine with you being a princess Isabella. That would never have been an issue. It's the lying, and the obvious fact that you don't trust me at all."

"Oliver..."

"I just don't think it's a good idea for us to continue this. You understand," he steeled himself, half expecting her to break down and cry, beg him not to. What he got was her straightening out her posture, her face becoming rigid and almost cold.

"I understand," she said in a hard voice, and she walked out with her head held high. He should have known, after all, she was a princess. Whether or not she cried when she walked away, he couldn't say.

She did.


	6. A Dance

The end of the year passed by slowly for a miserable Isabella. She had thought many times of begging her parents to let her drop out so she could pretend this was all a really bad dream, but she didn't. In the end Isabella chose to stay and finish up her schooling, because it was the right thing to do, and she was hoping to get into a good university once she left Hogwarts anyway. However, for the first time in her life, Isabella was completely alone. She avoided Oliver at all costs, terrified of another confrontation with him, or the thought of having to interact with him at all. He had moved in the classes they shared to work with a boy she was vaguely aware of, and she found herself working with a rather attractive Ravenclaw boy who seemed quite interested in her. She did not attempt to return anyone's romantic feelings, or feelings of friendship. She just wanted, at this point, to be alone.

Being alone had it's advantages. She had all of her studying for NEWTs done when they arrived, and was pretty sure she would be receiving top marks. She also got a lot of reading done. She had also discovered the Room of Requirement by a happy accident one day when she was wandering tearfully through the halls. The rooms supplied her with a piano, sheet music, and occasionally a box of tissues. Isabella spent all her free time playing piano until she thought her fingers would bleed. As a kid she had balked every time her mother made her practice, now she was grateful she had, playing piano was the only thing saving her here at Hogwarts. She found herself daydreaming about getting up to that room during class, and several times had even thought about skipping to go and play. Weekends were the best, she could spend all day in there playing, stopping only to eat.

The last day of the term was not a sad one for her, although the ride home was a lonely one. She had managed to snag the only compartment in the train that was empty, and no one bothered her the whole journey home. Oliver had passed by once, by she was so absorbed in her book she didn't even notice. He noticed her, he had been noticing her ever since he had ended things with her. When Oliver was being honest with himself, which was often lately, he had to admit he had been bluffing when he broke up with her, and instantly regretted it the second the words left his lips. He had expected her to beg him not to, to ask for him back, but she never did. He knew she had to be avoiding him, because for a while after their split he actively went out looking for her, to no avail. After a while she disappeared altogether and he just kind of gave up. She seemed over it, which was Olivers greatest disappointment. This should have been his year, he got the House Cup, and job as a reserve keeper for Puddlemere United, and he should have had the girl, but he had to go and fuck it up. When he calmed down, and thought about it rationally, her behavior wasn't as terrible as he had acted like it was. She did what he thought, anyone would have done, after all, if she had told everyone she was a Princess, would they ever have been able to be as good of friends as they had been? Would he ever have gotten to know her like he did, to fall in love with her because of who she was and not what she would be? There were a lot of variables he was sure would have changed had she not made that decision. Yes, he wished she had eventually told him, but in all fairness, he never allowed her to either, accusing her outright instead of being a liar and dumping her. His behavior was just as bad as hers.

He saw her once on the train, sitting alone reading a book. She didn't look up at him, even though he paused at her door, trying to find the courage to go in and talk to her, to tell her he was sorry, but he didn't. He saw her again on the platform, greeting her parents and what had to be her brother. His eyes connected with her fathers, who nodded once as an acknowledgment, which caused her eyes to stray over to him. He was surprised to see how hurt she looked in the second their eyes met. She dropped her gaze immediately, and walked off with her family, and Oliver assumed that he would never see her again. He vowed, in that moment of watching her walk away with him, that he would not love another girl.

Luckily for both of them, someone with a long white beard, and half moon spectacles was watching over them. It wasn't like Dumbledore to take an interest in the love lives of all of his students, but Isabella and Oliver were two people who wanted to be together, but circumstances and the lack of poor communication had prevented this. He wasn't actively trying to put them back together, but should the opportunity prevent itself, he was going to take it to help them along.

The mourning period was over, and Isabella's parents were crowned King and Queen of Denmark, and in honor of this her father was throwing a ball. Christian had suggested a masked ball, and the invitations were mailed out. Isabella didn't invite anyone she knew, preferring to just make a totally new start in the muggle world, but her parents had sent an invitation to Dumbledore, who had replied with a plus one next to his name. Isabella was not aware that he had been invited, or that he had sent an invitation to Oliver. She sat the night of in her room in a long, poofy, silver blue dress, a glittery blue mask over her face. He hair was pulled half way off her face, the rest falling over her shoulders in long blond curls with diamond tiara placed on top for good measure. Her feet were clad in white, sparkling heels.

"I don't want to make my entrance into a big deal. It kind of defeats the purpose of a mask, if everyone knows it me," he told her maid Filomina.

"Then go down now before your father can make it a big deal, " Filomina suggested, giving the princess a shove towards the door. Isabella entered and was immediately asked to dance by an elderly gentlemen in a bright purple suit and a black mask. She couldn't help but feel like she had met him before, the eyes behind his mask twinkled in a familiar way.

"You must dance with my nephew," he told her in flawless Danish.

"Certainly," she responded pleasantly allowing her to lead the way. He took her over to a gentleman in dark black robes and a maroon colored mask that covered only his eyes. She was struck by his lips almost at once, thinking they looked familiar, but she shook the thought from her head as he took her hand. He had burning brown eyes, strong cheek bones, and dark brown hair. There was something comforting in his height, and the breadth of his shoulders and the way he grasped her hand as they began whirling through the people. She wasn't able to speak with him through the first couple dances they danced together. He didn't let her go, and she made no attempt to get away. For whatever reason, she felt safe in this persons arms.

Eventually her brother stole her away for a dance, and then her father, and several other people and diplomats she knew well. By this time everyone was aware of who she was, and people were lining up to dance with her, after all she was the most eligible bachelorette in Denmark, but all she could think of was the man she had danced with earlier in the evening. Excusing herself from her latest partner, she stole off through the people, trying to find the gentleman. She saw his mask, the unusual maroon color, flash through the crowd, and without caring who saw, began working her way through people. She slipped through the doors and was outside in the cool air. Feeling as though she was in a movie, she ran as quickly as her dress allowed through the grounds until she far from the palace, hidden behind shrubs and statues.

"Hello?" she called out, not realizing she was speaking English.

The stranger stepped out and replied, "Hello, Isabella." He was speaking English as well, though his accent didn't sound right. He gave her a small bow, and then offered her his hand.

"Who are you?" she asked, wishing she could remove his mask. The man, however, did not reply, so she took his hand and allowed him to pull her close for a dance.

"I can't stay very much longer," he told her. "It's almost midnight."

She smiled at this. "We wouldn't want your coach to turn into a pumpkin, would we"

"No, indeed." He pulled her tightly against his chest. Isabella didn't realize Oliver was on a tight schedule, he had to be on form for practice tomorrow. She didn't realize Oliver was the man holding her...consciously, anyway. Oliver was afraid to reveal to her that it was him in case she had moved on, but couldn't resist seeing her one last time, especially after Dumbledore had invited him along.

"Princess?" he asked her softly, their faces inches apart.

"Yes?" she breathed.

"May I kiss you?"

She didn't respond, instead waiting until their lips met. The way he kissed her was familiar, the way her body reacted even more familiar. It was if she had been doing this her whole life. When they broke apart he placed a hand on her face.

"I have to go now."

"Wait!" she called after him as he began to walk away. "What's your name?"

He paused and turned around. "You already know my name." After that, he was gone. It was like he vanished into thin air.


	7. Friends again

Isabella put the strange man out of her mind the next morning; she had a meeting with David, a boy she had known her whole life. He was a Duke in England, and three years older than her, and had apparently been to her fathers ball the night before although she didn't remember dancing with him. Putting on a pair of dark jeans and a nice top, she met him in a quiet little cafe.

"Isabella," he greeted her when he saw her coming. He stood up and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She smiled and took her seat as he pulled it out, chivalry was not dead with David. His features were really striking, he had really dark hair for an Englishman, practically black with a pair of baby blue eyes, high cheek bones, and full lips. He was tall and muscular and she knew her parents would have liked him as a son in law. She hadn't seen David since she was eleven and him fourteen, right before she left for Hogwarts. She was kind of swept up in his good looks, he was the way you imagined an English Prince to look, even if he was only a duke.

"David," she smiled. "It's been a million years."

He laughed at this. "Indeed it has, but time has been really good to you, you're beautiful."

She looked down at her feet in embarrassment. "You look well yourself, David." He brushed off her remark.

"I would have enjoyed dancing with you last night, but you seemed preoccupied," he teased lightly, though he had been really irritated that he hadn't been able to get a moment of Isabella's time last night. He had been interested in her when they were young. Sitting across from her now, he couldn't help but thinking she really was beautiful. They would make a handsome couple.

"Oh, yeah," she mumbled noncommittally.

"Who was he?"

"I'm not sure. Just some stranger, he left a midnight," she confessed.

"A modern day Cinderella."

"I guess so. Um...David, are you going to be there when my father addresses my people?" she asked him quickly before she could change her mind. In an effort to forget about Oliver she had promised herself she would begin dating people again, suitable men for her, and who more perfect than David?

"I will be," he told her as he leaned forward. "I'm looking forward to it, your father is going to be a great leader."

She smiled. "Well...maybe afterwards we could...I dunno..." she trailed off helplessly, she had never asked anyone out.

"Maybe see a movie?" he supplied helpfully.

"Yeah," she breathed in relief. "That would be nice."

"Excellent." He stood up, waiting until she had gathered her stuff. "See you then."

She smiled and hugged him. He smelled nice, and she figured she could do worse, and with that in mind she got back in her car, which she had just learned to drive, and headed home to get ready for her fathers address. Filomina had a white dress ready for her, which she slipped into easily. As Filomina did her hair they made conversation about David.

"That boy is beautiful," Filomina sighed as she pulled pieces back and pinned them with bobby pins.

"Yeah, he's really nice to look at, and he's smart, he graduated top of his class at Oxford with a degree in Political Science," Isabella told her, wincing at Filomina's pulling.

"Well you could do worse, I'm not sure if you could do better. No way is your hair escaping out this. You should consider letting me cut it after today," Filomina was spraying what had to be a whole can of hair spray into her hair.

"I'll think about it," Isabella stood up and put on her sash once her tiara was firmly in place.

"Good luck!" Filomina told her cheerfully. She met her parents, brother, and his wife by the doors. "Isabella, you'll go first with your brother," her father instructed her.

She looked at Christian, who nodded, and when the cue was given, the two stepped out. Isabella was used to all the people and photographers, but today she was not in the mood for it. She smiled sweetly next to her brother, and when her parents joined them, Isabella moved to her mothers side and began listening as photographers snapped away. She was standing comfortably when David caught her eye and smiled at her. She smiled back at him, wondering briefly if he had been her masked dancer when her hair suddenly fell out, despite all the bobby pins and hair spray. It was like she had been holding it up with one flimsy clip because it tumbled down like nothing was in it, no hairspray or anything. This caused a commotion with the photographers, who began snapping away fervently. Her mother raised an eyebrow at her but Isabella didn't notice. She had a good feeling magic was behind her hair malfunction, and was scanning the crowd for someone who didn't look like they belonged.

At the very back of the crowd a boy in a jersey that stood out against thousands of people was standing, brown eyes burning. He was staring at her, waiting for her to see him. Oliver Wood was not going to let Isabella get away that easy, even if he was the one who had originally let her go. Seeing her, smiling at that boy had caused Oliver to act and send the spell that undid her hair. He didn't feel like it was his Isabella he was looking at with hair like that, and now that he had caught her attention, he pulled out his mask from last night before she could look away.

Isabella forgot where she was when she saw Oliver put on that mask. Ignoring the fact that her father was in the middle of a speech, or that thousands of people were watching her every move, she stood up and began walking down the steps, past the barriers, and into the crowd. She saw him walking through, and was grateful that people were parting for her. She was vaguely aware of her father saying her name in a confused tone through the microphone, but she kept going. Once she broke through all the people she saw him jogging around a corner and down a street, so she picked up her skirt and took off running. Behind her people began talking loudly about their princesses strange behavior, none of them had realized she was running after someone.

"Find her!" her father ordered, concerned for his younger daughter. His son was making his way after her, but once Christian rounded the corner she was gone. He didn't realize, having never been a wizard, that once she caught up with Oliver she had grabbed his wrist and apparated before anyone could stop her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded once they landed, in a field no where Oliver recognized.

"I was watching your father speak," he told her honestly. She turned around so she didn't have to look at his face because it had suddenly become painful and ran her hands through her hair.

"I meant in general, Oliver. What are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything Isabella."

"Right. Then undoing my hair...kissing me at the ball...that was nothing?"

"I never said that. The hair was to get your attention. And...the kissing was because...I miss you."

Isabella's breath caught in her throat and she couldn't move. Oliver put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.

"I'm so sorry I let you go. It was a mistake. I miss you."

"...but...I lied to you," she said softly, looking down at her feet.

"And I reacted the exact way you thought I would," he reminded her.

"I should I have just told you when we met," she confessed, still staring at her feet.

"And things might not have worked out this way. I am the jerk here," he lifted her chin up with a finger and looked at her.

"No, I am."

"We'll agree to disagree. So...we okay?" he asked her, smiling.

"Yes, we are okay. It's good to have my best friend back," she smiled back at him. Oliver's smile, however, froze on his face at the word 'friend'.

"Friend..?"

She looked at him perplexed. "Yeah. Dating didn't really work for us, so I thought we should probably go back to be friends. It worked for us for years."

He swallowed. This is not what he had had in mind at all, he wanted her to be his girlfriend again. His mouth opened to protest this, but had a realization. Telling her he refused to be her friend when he was still madly in love with her could cause her to retract and him to lose her altogether. The better alternative was to stay friends with her and win her back. Smiling, even though he felt like throwing up, he responded.

"Best friends. Always. Now lets get you back."


	8. Stay

You guys are adorable.

* * *

Isabella was already bored of palace life, and more importantly, her brother. He had always been bossy and obnoxious, but she had never had to spend a lot of time with him since she was eleven. This was too much for Isabella, who had had enough of listening to him tell her to stand up straight, or to stop slurping. She knew those rules, but somehow felt that when it was just her and the family she could just be herself and let loose a little bit.

This is how Isabella found herself lounging in the grass on a large beige blanket, watching Oliver fly around above her. He had bewitched a quaffle to fly at him, and was defending his goal space in the open field. She had popped up in his fireplace earlier that morning and practically begged him to spend time with her. Oliver had agreed willingly, warning her he needed to practice before they did anything else, but Isabella didn't mind. She had a book out and was reading, enjoying the cool day and the sunshine along with occasional thwack of Olivers broom on the quaffle.

"Hey you!" he smiled at her as he landed his broom next to Isabella's blanket.

"Hey," she put her book down and smiled at him. "Sounded like you were doing well up there."

Oliver smiled with pleasure. He was still in love with Isabella, and he'd take any praise she offered him. "I did alright, nothing to write home about."

"And so modest. Are you done?" she sat up eagerly.

"I believe I am. What do you want to do today?" he asked her.

"I don't know...what do you want to do?" she asked in typical girl fashion.

"We could go to Hogsmeade. It's been a long time since we've been there," he suggested. Oliver had a plan that involved sweeping her off her feet, again, and getting her back. He was slightly intimidated because she was royal, but he also knew she was the same girl he had known since he was eleven.

"Hm. That sounds fun," she said thoughtfully. Oliver smiled and helped her fold up her blanket.

"We can leave these at my place, we'll grab them on our way back."

"Sounds good," she grasped his hand, ignored her pounding heart at the contact, and the two disapparated to his home.

Isabella hadn't seen Olivers new place, and she was pretty impressed because it was an actual house, gray stone in the suburbs.

"Wow...Oliver this is adorable!"

"Yeah, it's nice," he said, pleased with himself. "It'd be nicer to share it with someone."

Isabella was hit with a vision of her and Oliver in this house, laughing together, little children making noise in the halls. She shook her head softly, not wanting him to notice her momentary loss of focus.

"I can imagine," she murmured, running her fingers over the marble top of the fireplace.

"You ready?" he asked, not offering to let her tour the place. Isabella wanted to see the rest, but didn't protest. With one last, wistful look at the place she held onto his bicep and they apparated into Hogsmeade.

"It's just how I remember it," she breathed, taking it all in. The village was not very busy so it was kind of like they had the village to themselves.

"Where do you want to go first?" he asked, looking at her gleeful expression.

"I'd really love a butterbeer," she looked at him and flashed a huge smile. Oliver wanted to shield his face, she had just taken his breath away.

"Butterbeer it is," Oliver agreed amicably. They two walked towards the Hogs Head in a comfortable silence. When they arrived Oliver went to the bar to order and Isabella sat down in a booth and watched. She continued to feel like being Olivers friend was impossible, but she was going to keep trying. She had deluded herself into thinking it was what he wanted, so she kept her mouth shut and didn't tell him that she was still ridiculously in love with him.

"Two butterbeers," Oliver sat one down in front of her.

"Thanks. You really didn't have to pay you know," she told him as she took a sip.

"I know I didn't. I wanted to," he responded, taking a gulp. He chanced a glance at Isabella as she looked around. Her bangs were pinned back and she was barely wearing any make up, she had on a form fitting black t-shirt and blue jeans. He didn't realize he was staring until she started smiling at him.

"Do I have foam on my face?" she asked, lowering her eyes onto her hands which were fidgeting in her lap. She was a little nervous by the way he was looking at her.

"Oh...no..." he looked around the room, feeling stupid. "Wanna...go walking?"

"Yeah!" she downed the rest of her drink and jumped up faster than he expected. Finishing his quickly he followed her out into the village.

"It seems smaller somehow," she commented as the walked slowly through.

"Maybe you just remember it differently?" he asked.

"Probably. Everything seems better in my imagination," she smiled wistfully, remembering all the times she had with Oliver there.

The pair ended the day laughing, and it almost felt like old times. She was sad when they ended back in his house, because she wasn't ready to go.

"I guess...I guess I should go..." she said wistfully, heading towards the door. Oliver grabber her hand.

"Wait. Don't go."

"Why?" she asked.

He didn't answer, he just pulled her close until she was pressed against him. "Oliver..." she whispered, making one last attempt to stop this before they kissed and she couldn't keep her resolve to be friends.

With his free hand he brushed a piece of hair that had fallen out of her clip and into her face. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly enjoying the touch of his hand on her face. Cupping her face, he lowered his and brought his mouth to hers. Isabella didn't move for a second and then gave up. What was the point, she loved him? She put one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his head and began kissing him back.

When they pulled apart to breathe he said, "I still love you."

"So do I."

"Stay."

"Always," she said before kissing him again, this time with every intention of never leaving him again...


End file.
